


Deviant by Nature

by SparrowPixie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxious Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Gen, Mystery, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: You're a journalist for the Detroit News on your first big investigative assignment. The subject? A hard boiled Lieutenant and an android detective. Can you write your story without him figuring out your darkest secret? What's more, can you keep Connor's secret when you're job is to write the truth?





	Deviant by Nature

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first fanfiction on this site. I used to have quite a following on fanfiction.com but I've discovered that the Detroit following there is scarce. Please comment any suggestions or criticisms, but please remember that this is my first Detroit fiction. Go easy on me here, folks. Also, I know the spacing is weird for the second half. Don't worry, this will not be a common occurrence.

_'Journalism is an act of faith in the future.'_

_-Ann Curry_

OOO-OOO

Persuasion and manipulation. There was a fine but very distinct line between the two. A line you'd learned to walk over the past six years of working for the Detroit News. There was no room for judgment of methods in investigative journalism. You either got the story or you didn't. As to how didn't matter much.

Not that you'd been asked before. Your past pieces on technology review hadn't exactly been regarded as hard hitting journalism.

But all that was about to change.

You're eyes flickered up to Captain Fowler's office. His office reminded you of a zoo enclosure. A transparent, glass case allowing those surrounding him to survey his activities. What kind of animal he was within was unclear. You'd never met him but from what you heard he was determined, stern and confident. Never backing down and never daring to question himself. Self assured was most likely the best adjective to describe him.

Perhaps he was a lion. 

 _'Stereotypical, but not ridiculous,'_ you thought as you observed him pacing, eyes fixed on the tablet in his hands.

Glancing at your phone you realized that you'd been waiting to meet with Captain Fowler for thirty five minutes. Had the android receptionist at the front desk perhaps malfunctioned when she said that she would alert the Captain of your presence? Maybe she hadn't recognized your status as a reporter and simply assumed that you were a concerned citizen.

You briefly wondered if it had to with the fact that you were a twenty-seven year old woman. If there was anything you'd learned from your last (and only) piece of investigative journalism on women in the workplace, it was that femininity was a disadvantage when in a room full of suits and testosterone.

 _'Personal bias...'_ your subconscious chided.

Of all the difficulties plaguing journalists you'd found this one to be your biggest weakness. You couldn't afford that here. Not on your first piece of daring journalism.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw the transparent door of Captain Fowler's office open. Instantly you sat up straighter. The lion's eyes shifted in your direction before offering a one armed gesture, inviting you into his enclosure.

You stood, holding your tablet a little tighter to your chest and straightening your blazer. One of three you owned. 

_'Captain Fowler, pleasure to meet you... No... Captain Fowler, thank you for seeing me... No, that makes you seem like you're unworthy of his time...'_

You walked up the small set of stairs, wracking your brain for the right greeting. You had about two seconds to come up with one.

Captain Fowler held the door open for you with his left arm, his face unreadable.

"Thank you," you regarded politely.

He responded with a nod of acknowledgement. Off to a good start.

The door made a small hissing noise as it shut behind the both of you.

"Take a seat please," Captain Fowler said crossing to his chair behind a commanding desk.

You sat, trying to make yourself as tall as possible in the metallic chair. It was cold beneath your clothes. You suppressed a chill that threatened to shake your shoulders and instead tightened your ponytail. Captain Fowler sighed, leaning back, hands folded over his torso.

"You're Y/N, from the Detroit News?"

"Yes," you responded.

"What do you want?"

Direct. Another adjective to describe Captain Fowler. For a moment you were stunned by his bluntness, but hid it well.

"I'm an investigative journalist and I'd like to ask your permission to do a piece," you replied, hoping the phrasing flattered him.

In your experience the wording _'ask your permission'_ often made the person in question feel powerful. It was true what 'they' said. _'Flattery gets you everywhere.'_ Especially when dealing with the ego of most men in power positions.

"A piece on what?"

No pausing. No hesitation. He may be the one with the power but you were the one with information. Equally important if not more so. 

"It's come to my attention that Cyberlife has sent a prototype android to assist your department in the investigations of deviants."

There was what looked to be a moment of panic on the Captain's face, but it was soon replaced with impassiveness.

"How would you know something like that?"

A question you were hoping he wouldn't ask. Gnawing on your lower lip you recited the answer you'd rehearsed in case Captain Fowler happened to make that unfortunate inquiry.

"While my last piece was investigative, beforehand I was head of technology reviews for the Detroit News. I've made connections over the years."

Inwardly, you prayed he would only take notice of the words 'head of technology reviews' and 'made connections.' Hopefully he wouldn't realize that technology reviews was a one person department-consisting of you alone-and that it was mainly discussing the quality of the latest cell phones, tablets, autonomous vehicles and occasionally android prototypes. Maybe he wouldn't realize that the only reason you were assigned this case was because of your 'connections' and not because you were desperately trying to claw your way to the position of official investigative journalist.

Captain Fowler steepled his fingers beneath his chin.

"So prior to this you've only done one investigative article?"

_'Shit.'_

"Correct."

He seemed to consider this and it was unclear as to if he viewed your inexperience as a positive or negative.

"I've spoken with Cyberlife and they've given me permission to observe their prototype android. Good publicity and all that," you said, feigning flippancy. "I thought maybe the DPD would be interested in that as well."

And bingo. Fowler's eyes lit up at this prospect. Not surprising. It was no secret the DPD could use some good press. Ever since they'd integrated androids into their ranks the public had been less than skeptical of their human officer's competence. Harsh words were whispered of their inability to do their jobs without the assistance of an android. 

"Could be your chance to prove that... maybe androids need officers more than vice versa," you shrugged, trying to maintain eye contact.

The corner of Fowler's mouth tugged up momentarily before he exhaled sharply.

"You've already sold me."

You clenched your jaw, suppressing the triumphant smile that tickled the edges of your lips. Instead, you adjusted yourself in your seat, raising your chin.

 _'Confidence...'_ you reminded yourself.

"But," Fowler stated jabbing a finger in your direction. "There are some guide lines you need to follower. For both our sakes."

"Of course."

"I'll allow you access to investigations accompanying the Cyberlife Android and his partner only. No observations on any of my other officers. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely, of course allowing that I can accompany them to crime scenes..." 

 

It felt like walking on a slack line-this discussion. You tested your weight with each step, knowing one wrong shift of your body could send you hurling off.

 

"I'll allow it, but you touch nothing. Got it?" Fowler said firmly.

 

"Got it."

 

"That said, I don't want to see a single article published by Detroit News containing insider information. Not by you or anyone else. Not until you're done with your... story, or whatever you call it."

 

"I figured you would say that," you nod, flipping on your tablet. "I created an NDA specifically for this."

 

Reaching over the desk, you handed Fowler your tablet. On the translucent screen a neatly compiled contract. You watched, observing Fowler's expression keenly as he scanned the paragraphs.

 

"It says that I won't have any contact with Detroit News after you sign this, aside from confirmation that my story has begun and I'll be on work leave. It also states that I won't be publishing anything in the Detroit News until you dictate that I'm done. It _also_ says that you will have the right to review the entire article before it's sent to print. If you disapprove, I'll start from scratch-you can give me whatever notes you like. You hold all the power," you explained casually. "You'll see it's been notarized and reviewed. All you have to do is sign right next to my signature."

 

After a moment of silence so tangible and so thick you could cut it with a knife, Fowler met your gaze.

 

"You realize that this NDA you've made leaves you with almost no say. I could practically make you write a glowing review of the DPD and there's nothing you could do," Fowler said, brows furrowing.

 

_'Confidence...'_

 

You inhaled deeply through your nose, folding your hands in your lap, fingers squeezing your knuckles tightly. A habit when you were nervous.

 

"Yes, but I know a lot about you, Captain Fowler. Not only are you a man known for your integrity and honesty but you're smart," you said evenly. "And you know a news article edited to depict sunshine and roses isn't going to hold up. You know people will suspect I lied and you made me."

 

"How would they know I made you?"

 

"Because a nonnegotiable point in that NDA is that a subtext reading 'This article has been reviewed and previewed for print by Captain Fowler of the DPD' will be included in my story. See section five, column C."

 

He looked back down at the tablet, finger dragging down the screen to find where that ominous line you'd included was residing. 

 

"I would-" your voice sounded hoarse. Weak. Unsure. You cleared your throat, setting your jaw. "I would like to begin as soon as possible. Do we have an agreement?"

 

Another long pause. You continued to stare at the Captain, eyes narrowed in anticipation. He was scanning through the NDA for a second time. 

 

"We have a few options. You can refuse to sign my NDA and instead we shake hands and you trust that I follow your guide lines-"

 

"Or I could tell you to beat it," he grumbled glancing up from the tablet to glower at you.

 

"Or," you challenged. "...you can get some good press and sign my NDA that allows you to hold all the cards; and you and I know the last time DPD got good press was for the Red Ice bust."

 

Fowler held your stare steadily. You knew that look. He was studying you. Sizing you up. It wasn't uncommon. Especially in your line of work. It was a game you hadn't lost in years. You knew how to win. You didn't break eye contact. Instead you allowed him to make an instinctual judgment. Because lurking behind your young age and your inexperience was something that no one could rival. 

Tenacity. 

 

You knew you only needed to keep this up and then he would see it. The fire that everyone else saw when you wanted something. 

 

_'Three... two... one...'_

 

"Fine."

 

_'That's what I thought...'_

 

Fowler's finger drifted swiftly across the bottom of the tablet screen. He'd fallen right into your trap. 

 

"You'll need a DPD Clearance ID. You seem like the prepared type. I assume you have your social security card and driver's license..."

 

"Yes." 

 

He handed the tablet back to you before shifting in his chair to face his terminal. 

 

"Go to the front desk. They'll get you set up."

 

"Thank you."

 

"The Android should be arriving shortly. He'll be partnered with Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Anderson... I dunno when he'll be here..." he sighed. 

 

"Hank Anderson? As in... The Red Ice Bust Hank Anderson?"

 

Fowler stroked his jaw. He was... frustrated? You did your best not to look curious but rather impassive.

 

"Yeah," he finally grumbled. "But... I'm telling him that after he gets here so... don't say anything, got it?"

 

"You have my discretion," you nodded. "Thank you-"

 

"Your welcome."

 

The conversation was over. That much was clear. You knew better than to poke a sleeping bear-especially when they had just allowed you insider access to their entire department. You stood swiftly and walked towards the door with trembling legs. Trembling in anticipation. 

 

OOO-OOO

 

After speaking with the same android receptionist from before and presenting her with three forms of I.D.  you'd had a very unflattering photo taken. Much to your chagrin it would live eternally on a badge hanging from a lanyard around your neck. Your editor would want to use it as an exclusive photo for the feature no doubt. 

 

You scowled at the thought as you typed the editor in question a text on your phone.

 

_'Fowler signed the NDA and allowed me access. I'm in.'_

 

It didn't take but fourteen seconds for a response.

 

_'We'll see you when we see you. Good luck and don't blow it. Expect your leave checks every Friday.'_

 

And just like that... you were not going to be at the office for quite some time.

 

You scanned the bull pen as you reentered from the lobby. No sign of Lieutenant Anderson or the Cyberlife prototype. Still, Fowler had said the two would arrive shortly and this story needed to start as soon as possible. 

 

Perhaps now was a good time to explore. Get to know the precinct a little better. You'd probably be spending a lot of time here after all, and if that were true you'd need to know where in the hell the coffee was.

Ringing phones echoed about the room. The tapping of fingers as various officers filed reports. Freshly polished boots squeaking against the tiled floor. The DPD reeked of both urgency and the mundane at once. An interesting combination.

 

Past the bullpen and to the right lurked a small but open room. A few strategically placed high tables. The toaster, sink, various kitchen appliances-and most importantly-coffee machine dictated that this was the break room. It was surprisingly homey for a police break room. More so resembling an austere kitchen than an office if you overlooked the vending machines. 

 

You crossed to the coffee maker. What number cup were you on today? Three or four? Didn't matter. Whatever it took to keep you running was fine. Your parents often accused you of running on fumes but you'd always insisted coffee was more like fuel.

 

Steaming, black liquid filled the styrofoam cup and the familiar smell was welcome during this time of pulsing adrenaline and anxiety. A moment to collect yourself before resuming the facade of 'stern reporter lady.' 

 

You were many things but stern was not one of them. Stubborn? Sure. Awkward? Yep. Charming? Sometimes. Earnest? Always. Kind? Usually. A smart ass? Constantly. Stern? Not quite.

 

"A new arrival..." a voice remarked from behind you.

 

With raised brows you turned taking a slow sip of your coffee. An officer-on the younger side-in a leather jacket leaned casually on one of the tables. His eyes studied you as his finger traced over his stubble coated jawline.

 

"You a transfer or something?" he inquired in what appeared to be a friendly tone.

 

It was hard to gauge this man. Usually you knew exactly who someone was as soon as you laid eyes on them and it was almost the same case here. The only thing you knew about the officer before you though, was that he was an arrogant wild card. That was it. 

 

"Or something," you shrugged, straightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "I'm a reporter with Detroit News."

 

"Oh... a reporter. Huh..."

 

"Mmhm."

 

"And you're here to report on?"

His voice was hopeful. He was one of those man boys eager for praise. That was obvious. Useful knowledge for later perhaps.

 

"The Cyberlife Prototype," you stated, joining him at the table. "Know anything about it?"

 

He glared briefly, teeth clenched.

 

"He's a plastic prick... We don't need him."

 

"You sound defensive..." you smirked. "Do you already have some beef with the android?"

 

"Do you already have a dumb list of questions to ask me?"

 

"Of course," you shrugged. "Can you blame me? The first person I meet is a surly, young police officer wearing leather and a chip on his shoulder. I'm sure you have lots of opinions."

 

A cocky smile appeared on his face and you fought off a sneer. He was indeed very very eager for praise.

 

"Maybe I can tell you my opinions over a drink at Jimmy's..."

 

"I don't think so."

 

He frowned dramatically.

 

"Why not?"

 

"Much like you, I'm here to do a job, Officer..."

 

"Detective Gavin Reed. Pleasure to meet you, Miss..."

 

You introduced yourself adjusting your posture so as to give the overly confident detective a clue that you weren't interested in him so much as a you were your story. 

 

"So what's your problem with the android, Detective?"

 

Leaning on the table with his elbows, Detective Reed took a deep steadying breath. However, before he could speak a pair of tapping footsteps interrupted him. 

 

"Speak of the devil..."

 

Even though his back was to you it was obvious who this was. The triangular, glowing blue badge between the shoulder blades was a dead giveaway. The printed letters 'ANDROID' and 'RK800' in luminous ivory. The prototype. You straightened slightly as your heart pounded. This was it, the beginning of your feature.

 

_'It was in the company of a surly, hot shot detective that I encountered Cyberlife's most advanced android yet. The RK800.'_

 

That would be the opening line.

 

Okay, a work in progress.

 

"Look at that! Our friend the plastic detective is back in town! Congratulations on last night! Very impressive!" Gavin commended offering an overzealous applause. 

 

The android turned and you were quite taken aback by his appearance. Cyberlife Androids were known to be aesthetically pleasing to the eye-particularly those of the 'partner' model line-but this was entirely different. This was a whole new level of eye pleasing. His hair was styled neatly though a single strand was resting gently on his forehead. Beneath meticulously trimmed brows were a pair of warm, chocolate brown eyes. His nose was very erect and his lips rested on a strong, chiseled jaw. Still, with all his angular features, there was something soft and inviting about him. 

 

"Good morning, Detective Reed," he greeted politely.

 

Gavin pushed off the table, a tight smile on his lips as he took long, lazy strides towards the android. You noted that Detective Reed stood a few inches shorter.

 

"Never seen an android like you before," he remarked standing before Connor. "What model are you?"

 

"RK 800. I'm a prototype."

 

 

"A prototype? Android detective," Gavin said regarding you briefly. "So machines are gonna replace us all? Is that it? Hey, bring me a coffee, dipshit."

 

Fantastic. Your first encounter with the subject of interest violated by a one sided pissing contest. You sighed softly, not bothering to hide your irritation with Detective Reed. The Android stared patiently down at him.

 

"Get a move on!" barked Gavin.

 

Your brows raised reflexively as you took a sip of your coffee. How to spin this encounter into a piece of hard hitting journalism...

 

"I'm sorry, but I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson."

 

It took a great deal of effort to swallow the coffee you'd just drank. Was there anything more frustrating to a bully like Gavin than the amity of a rival? It was amusing to say the least. Perhaps your expression let on more than you thought as Gavin's jaw twitched after glancing at you. He turned back to the RK800.

 

"Oh...oh..."

 

There was a sardonic laugh that masked dissatisfaction in Gavin's tone. Much the opposite, you were quite satisfied by this reaction.

 

This was soon interrupted by Gavin abruptly ramming his fist into Connor's stomach, right beneath where you knew a thirium pump to be. A brief pause while Connor doubled over, sinking to one knee and bracing a fist on the floor, his other arm wrapped around his abdomen. You could almost feel it in your own stomach.

 

Detective Reed was indeed a wildcard.

 

You set down your coffee and shot an incredulous look Gavin's way.

 

"Yeah, that's a great idea. Damage Cyberlife's most advanced android. He's worth a small fortune. You really wanna cover that?" you drawled angrily. 

 

But Gavin didn't seem to hear you. He was clearly unstable. For a moment your eyes landed on his sidearm and you wondered how many times he'd used it unnecessarily. Like a little boy flaunting his expensive toys at the park for the other children, only to refuse to share.

 

"If Hank hadn't got in the way yesterday, I would've fucked you up for disobeying a human."

 

Gavin bent over so he was eye level with you and Connor.

 

"Stay outta my way. Cause' next time, you won't get off so easy."

 

Gavin gave Connor a final strike to the shoulder before turning towards you.

 

"Good luck with your story. Let me know about that drink if you ever want to interview an actual detective."

 

Before exiting the break room, Gavin offered a wink. One that made you cringe for him. Honestly? Did this supposed charm actually work for him? It didn't matter. Gavin Reed wasn't the story. The hunched over prototype was.

 

You set down your coffee and crossed over to him, kneeling by his side. One hand cupped his elbow and you realized just how ridiculous it was that you were helping him up. He was an android. He didn't feel pain. Not to mention your personal bias was showing again.

 

When you'd straightened up the RK800 straightened his tie.

 

"Thank you."

 

"You're welcome... not that you needed my help. I think that was just... instinctual."

 

His brown eyes examined you carefully. 

 

"You're not with the DPD," he observed. "You're a reporter with Detroit News."

 

"Correct-um... part of your program?"

 

"Facial recognition and access to personal records are just some of my many features."

 

You noted that the android looked a little proud as he said this. Proud but overall merely being informative.

 

"I'm actually here to do a story on you and Deviants. I primarily write for the Technology section but I'm trying to work my way into more investigative projects. You could call this a trial run," you said with a half-hearted smile.

 

You had to admit, making small talk with an android was strange. Especially when it really wasn't necessary to do so. He just looked so real. It was as you had said before, 'instinctual' to treat him like a human. A human stranger.

 

"Cyberlife has approved you for this," Connor stated extending a hand. 

 

Of course he could just access that information instantaneously. He was the most advanced of his kind. You took his hand, the smooth surface betraying the appearance of flesh and bone.

 

"Yes, I have a good reputation with Cyberlife. I've written a lot of articles on their androids and other products."

 

"I see."

 

"So... do you mind if I ask you some questions? If you aren't busy that is."

 

He tilted his head, folding his hands behind his back.

 

"I'm currently waiting on Lieutenant Anderson to arrive. I've been told not to expect him for some time, so no I'm not busy."

 

"Perfect."

 

"But, you have to understand that my mission comes first. So while I'm happy to cooperate with your own investigation, you have to understand that I will always select my top priority. Does this sound reasonable?"

 

You blinked. How was his response so commanding yet submissive?

 

_'The RK800 is caught in a position of both authority and servitude...'_

 

A good line for your introduction.

 

"That makes sense. I'm mainly just here to observe and report. I promise to stay out of your way," you agree with a nod. "So... do you go by RK800? Most Cyberlife Androids have names..."

 

"My name is Connor."

 

"Connor," you said raising your brows in recognition. "It's... nice to meet you."

 

"Likewise."

 

Offering a small smile you remove your phone from your back pocket, flipping to your notes.

 

"So, my questions..."

 

"I hope you don't mind if we continue this conversation at Lieutenant Anderson's desk. I'd like to be there when he arrives."

 

You wondered for a moment if Connor knew he was about to officially be Hank's partner on the Deviant cases. Then you thought better. Of course he knew. He had probably run some advanced algorithm in his program that allows him to predict the future. You smiled in spite of yourself before noticing Connor's expectant stare. 

 

"I don't mind at all."

 

"Thank you."

 

You followed Connor through the entryway of the break room and into the bull pen. Wandering eyes landed on the android then you. Two strangers. No one said anything though. 

 

"In the future I'll be more organized and we can schedule interviews for when you're not preoccupied," you explained, eyes glued to the notes on your phone screen. "Mostly I'll just be observing. Writing about you and Lieutenant Anderson."

 

Connor took a seat in the rolling chair before Hank's work station as you crossed to another at the vacant desk just beside him.

 

"What sort of questions did you have for me?" Connor asked raising his brows.

 

"Nothing too out of the ordinary. Do you mind if I record?" you asked removing an audio recorder from your bag. 

 

"No, I do not."

 

Something about the way his eyes studied you made you nervous. Not uncomfortable but exposed. It was like he was taking a peek into a box of your personal possessions without permission.

Then there was your personal bias-slowly seeping in through the cracks. 

 

_'Does he even know that most people see him as a walking computer? That if he was destroyed most no one would care?'_ you thought, brows knitting together.

 

Perhaps that was all androids were though. Walking computers. 

 

No. You'd never believed that. And with this surge in Deviancy it was more apparent than ever before that androids were indeed people.

 

You pressed the button on the recorder and set it on the edge of the desk.

 

"Alright, before, in the break room with Detective Reed. What's your relationship with him?" 

 

"Tense. Detective Reed seems unstable. I also believe he feels a sort of hostility towards me. It's unclear as to why, but I imagine, like most people who don't appreciate having androids around, it's because he fears I will take his job."

 

Unlike most androids, docile and obedient, Connor seemed to be much different. A mind of his own. Very aware. Conscious of emotions people felt towards him. It was a confusing concept. An android who considered human's opinions of them.

 

"I see. Do you plan on doing anything to rectify Detective Reed's negative feelings towards you?"

 

Connor's expression became puzzled. He cocked his head to the side.

 

"I don't much see the point. My mission has nothing to do with Detective Reed or the animosity he feels towards me. Also, I am programmed to have goals of accomplishing my mission. There's nothing in my program that causes me to aspire that my peers like me. Not unless it hinders any progress at least."

 

"So if you were to figuratively 'care' about anyone's feelings towards you, it would most likely be Hank Anderson's as he's your partner for this investigation?"

 

"Correct," he said with a nod.

 

An android who cared... Albeit it was part of his program and necessary to his job, you were more than a little impressed that Cyberlife had produced such a model. To install an android with even the slightest hint of desire that didn't involve serving humans-but rather using psychological evaluations and maintaining useful relationships-seemed quite the risk. Especially with Deviancy causing androids to care about similar things. Interesting.

 

"Officer Reed said something about you disobeying a human. What was he referring to?"

 

"I'm sure you're aware of the homicide uncovered last night of Carlos Ortiz by his android."

 

"Yeah, I saw that on the news."

 

"Well," Connor began gesturing with his hand. "We apprehended the android and brought him in to extract a confession and perhaps even learn the cause of Deviancy."

 

"How did that go?" you asked curiously.

 

"I was successful in extracting a confession, however what I managed to learn about Deviancy was limited."

"And that was?"

 

"That's something I'd prefer to discuss when we have more time," he said evenly. "But regarding your question about Detective Reed's meaning when he said I'd disobeyed."

 

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

 

"After interrogating the android that murdered Carlos Ortiz, Officer Miller attempted to take it to holding in a rather rough manner. It was refusing to cooperate as its defective program was causing it to experience anxiety. I could sense the android was dangerously close to self destructing so I intervened, ordering Officer Miller to be more gentle." Connor shook his head, offering a grimace. "This was not well received by Detective Reed who after I had insisted numerous times, pulled his gun on me."

 

Your jaw fell open slightly. 

 

"Oh, shit..."

 

"Indeed," Connor agreed. "However Lieutenant Anderson promptly came to my aid, aiming his own firearm at Detective Reed, causing him to lower his weapon. By my calculations, Officer Reed felt undermined most likely. He's a prideful man and I assume he feels hostility towards me for ordering him around."

 

"Yeah... that sounds about right."

 

Connor suddenly stood looking at something behind you.

 

"Oh, Jesus..." a gruff voice trailed off angrily.

 

You looked over your shoulder to see a man standing just over six feet looking exhaustively at Connor. He had a healthy head of neck length, grey hair and a substantial beard. Though he didn't resemble his picture in the Detroit Newspaper from ten years ago you recognized this man to be Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

 

He looked down at you, his expression growing even more irritated.

 

"Aw, Christ... who the fuck are you?" Hank groaned.

 

"Hank!" a voice boomed.

 

All three of your heads snapped to the right. Fowler was leaning out his office door.

 

"My office! Now!"

 

Hank muttered something under his breath that you presumed was a curse before walking with dragging feet to his Captain's office. You stood swiftly.

 

"I actually have a few more questions. Maybe we can meet up later? Until my story is done I'm staying at the Antheneum Hotel downtown. Could you come by later?"

 

"Pending any investigations that may ensue, I could drop by around six this evening."

 

"Sure," you shrugged, extending a hand for him to shake. "Thank you for your time."

 

"Of course."

 

After giving your hand a gentle shake, Connor started towards Fowler's office.

 

"Oh, Connor!" you called. "Could you try to bring Lieutenant Anderson with you?"

 

Connor glanced from Fowler's office back to you.

 

"I can attempt to persuade him, but I'm afraid I can't make you any promises."

 

"That's good enough for me."

 

With a final nod, Connor entered Fowler's office. You found yourself almost breathless. As to why you were unsure. However, one thing you were certain of was that you very much looked forward to seeing Connor again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? I love reading them and I greatly appreciate feedback. I respond almost always. Expect new chapters once or twice a week!


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